


burn like stars

by starboykeith



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Era, Communication, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Loss of Virginity, Love Confessions, M/M, Magic Revealed, Sexual Content, Virgin Merlin (Merlin)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:26:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28382424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starboykeith/pseuds/starboykeith
Summary: What could be worse than finding out your eyes glow unmistakably gold when you have sex?Finding out in front of Prince Arthur.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 45
Kudos: 584





	burn like stars

**Author's Note:**

> show this to ur english teacher as an example of in medias res
> 
> hope u enjoy!!

He can’t seem to stop _moaning_ , noises coming unbidden as Arthur finds a rhythm and eases them into it, pausing to tug Merlin down the bed by his hips so he doesn’t hit his head on the headboard. Arthur feels so big, bigger than Merlin’s fingers the few times he worked himself up to it, and Merlin clenches around him just to feel the stretch.

“This’ll be over too quick if you keep doing that,” Arthur says, sounding as undone as he looks, blond hair coming loose from its artful tousle and falling over his forehead. Merlin runs his hands through it, pulling just a little just to see Arthur smirk. He pulls a lot harder when Arthur brushes that magic place inside him, crying out and dropping his hands to Arthur’s shoulders, hanging on for dear life.

“Right there,” he says desperately, getting close all too soon but powerless to stop it, addicted as Arthur grabs his thigh and spreads him _wider_ , changing the angle and hitting the bundle of nerves on every thrust. Merlin barely touches himself before he’s coming, looking up at Arthur with a reverence he never lets cross his face in the daytime, fearful of Uther and the knights and the expectations on Arthur’s shoulders. He’s lost, every nerve in his body on fire, high on it like magic.

Arthur looks enthralled, gaze fixed on Merlin’s face like he never wants to look away, and then he growls and increases his pace, driving into Merlin with deep, punishing grinds of his hips. Merlin whimpers, pleasure to the point of pain, and he feels it when Arthur comes, both in the way Arthur’s hips stutter and the wave of deep satisfaction that flows from him.

He feels consumed, following Arthur when he rolls onto his back and grabbing lazily for the washcloth on Arthur’s bedside table. Clean-up is cursory at best; Merlin looks forward to a bath, later, when he can be bothered to fetch the water. The journey to the well seems too much of a pilgrimage to be made right now, though, so Merlin puts the washcloth back and waits for some sign from Arthur. Should he leave? Should he make up some excuse about Gaius expecting him back?

But Arthur holds out his hand, managing to look cool and aloof as he does it, and Merlin collapses gratefully against him. He should have known Arthur wouldn’t let this change anything between them. Any minute, he’s going to remind Merlin that his chainmail and boots need polishing, his sword needs sharpening, his horses need—

“Did you know,” Arthur says, slowly and dangerously, “that your eyes glow when you come?”

“What colour?” Merlin says dreamily, and then he notes how tightly Arthur is holding him, and then he realises.

Oh, _fuck_.

“Umm, no they don’t.” He winces; that was bad, even for him. His body hasn’t caught up to his brain: Merlin tries to move, to get away before the situation escalates, but most of him wants to remain in bed, happy and sated and settled against Arthur’s chest. You only get one first time — seems a shame to end it atop a pyre.

“Gold,” Arthur says tersely. He isn’t letting go, though, isn’t turfing Merlin out of bed. If it wasn’t for the pounding of his heart under Merlin’s ear, Merlin might think he was just angry, not scared too.

“I think I’d know if that happened,” Merlin says, joking feebly to cover his terror. “Someone would’ve mentioned it!”

There’s nothing cruel in Arthur’s tone when he says, “I know I was your first.” Merlin swallows audibly; another secret he failed to keep. “Stop lying to me.”

Merlin wishes Arthur was yelling, or even hitting him. This gentle, wounded tone is a thousand times worse.

“You’re taking this well,” Merlin says, and then shuts his great big mouth before it gets him in any more trouble.

“I’m handling this _spectacularly_ , considering the circumstances,” Arthur snaps, and oh, there it is. Merlin twists so they can see each other, the breathless intimacy of sharing a pillow marred by the ferocity of Arthur’s expression. “What the hell were you thinking, coming here?”

His words hit Merlin like a punch to the gut, knocking the breath out of him. What _was_ he thinking? Did he really think Arthur — that the _prince_ would accept him the way he is, warts and all, after a lifetime of Uther whispering poison in his ear? It’s hard to remember all the times Arthur has shown curiosity, even tolerance towards magic, when the same man’s gaze is hard and without mercy. Merlin shakes off Arthur’s limbs and slides out of bed with as much dignity as he can muster, feeling too vulnerable to be tied up with Arthur like a lover. As if Arthur would want to be with someone like him.

It had been an evening like any other, but Merlin considers everything in a different light, wondering if Arthur had been at the ale, if maybe he was hard up and desperate for anyone to share his bed, forced to settle for Merlin because he was… available.

“I don’t know,” Merlin answers honestly. He becomes abruptly aware that he’s standing in the nude, cock soft and subservient between his legs, and hastily grabs his smallclothes, looking away. “I’ll — I’ll just go. You won’t hear from me again.”

“Merlin, don’t be an idiot.” Arthur’s tone startles Merlin into turning, looking Arthur in the face and fearing what he’ll find there. “I only meant — how could you come to Camelot when you have…” He can’t seem to make the word _magic_ leave his mouth. “When you’re different,” he settles on. “How could you risk yourself like that?”

Warring feelings turn hopeful, some dark part of him whispering that _Arthur does care for you, after all_. The warm fuzzies are banished when Arthur says, “And to work right under our noses!”

“I didn’t have a choice,” Merlin snaps, temper getting the better of him. “Remember?”

Arthur’s face shuts down. Merlin imagines they’re both recalling the sorcerer who posed as a visiting singer, spelling the court to fall asleep beneath spiderwebs and making one last lunge at Arthur with her knife. Merlin regrets his words immediately: sure, being rewarded with servitude had been his worst nightmare at the time, but he’d grown closer to Arthur every day since, would lay down his life for Arthur’s in an instant. Merlin could never regret falling in love with him.

“You saved me,” Arthur says, tone considerably softer, more thoughtful, “using magic.”

Merlin didn’t expect that. “Yes.”

“And all those other times…”

Merlin just nods. Now Arthur will banish him from the kingdom, and Merlin will have to go to Gaius and say goodbye to the only father he’s ever known, and return to his mother and the small village that looks upon him with suspicion and distrust, to live out a lonely life as a farmer. He wonders what Kilgharrah would say to this, and then he decides he doesn’t care.

“Come here,” Arthur says. Merlin, primed for hearing _get out_ , starts towards the door, and then stops.

“To you?” he says stupidly.

Arthur doesn’t do anything as sappy as hold out his arms, but he nods, something vulnerable in the way his lip trembles. The hatred doesn’t come. Arthur doesn’t look nervous to be around him, to have Merlin in his bed. Heart in his throat, Merlin begins to believe the trust between them is not quite broken.

Once Merlin is safely ensconced in his arms, both of them holding their breath, Arthur says, “We can talk about this later,” as if Merlin’s life doesn’t hang in the balance. “I just want to hold you, tonight. Can we do that?”

“Are you going to have me executed?” Merlin asks abruptly, his back to Arthur’s chest making him feel safe enough to ask. Another thought occurs to him. “Are _you_ going to execute me?”

“No!” Arthur exclaims.

“Why not?” Both of them know how Uther would react if he found out his son had neglected to arrest a sorcerer. Crown prince or not, Arthur would be in for it. To his horror, Merlin’s eyes begin to brim with tears, and he blinks hard to dispel them. He’ll leave, he decides, tonight. He can’t bear to have Arthur look on him with such mistrust, as much as he can’t bear to have Arthur punished for keeping his secret. Merlin’s sick of living his life in secret, of lying to Arthur and Gwen and everyone he holds dear, and he decides he’s well within his rights to demand, “Why, Arthur?”

“Because I love you!”

The confession is met with stunned silence. Merlin wriggles in Arthur’s arms and turns over to face him, never one to back down from an awkward situation. Arthur’s face is frozen, but he does sigh in exasperation when Merlin starts grinning.

“What was that?” he asks cheekily.

Arthur scowls at him. “I — I love you.” Frankly, Merlin is impressed he managed to say it a second time.

“You know what, I didn’t quite catch that—“ he starts, and makes a soft sound of surprise when Arthur kisses him, hard, demanding Merlin’s lips and his attention like he’s claiming his due.

They kiss forever, Merlin light-headed and overwhelmed that he gets to have Arthur like this, earnest and vulnerable. When Arthur’s lips travel down to his neck, he murmurs, “No one else has seen your golden eyes, huh?”

“Only you,” Merlin says with a gasp, and then Arthur moves lower, and then Merlin can’t think anymore.

A harder conversation awaits them in the morning, revelations dragged kicking and screaming into the light, and Merlin knows that Arthur’s trust in him is shaken. But there’s a lightness too, a relief in the knowledge that Arthur knows, that Arthur _loves_ him.

Perhaps, Merlin thinks, he won’t be leaving after all.

**Author's Note:**

> i'd really appreciate any comments if you enjoyed this!! you can find me on tumblr at starboykeith.tumblr.com and twitter at twitter.com/starboysheith c:


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